One to Ten
by Sky Minuet
Summary: In a desperate pursuit for deliverance, Flippy finds himself back in his hometown where he reunites with his childhood friend, Flaky. Little did he know that when returned, he didn't return alone.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **It's been a while since I wrote something for this series, and I'm very excited into completing it. I hope you guys are too. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **Happy Tree Friends and its characters aren't mine.

**!WARNING! This story contains violence, sexual themes, and strong language—which are not suitable for very young readers. Rating will change in time.**

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**Prologue**

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The battle was lost.

It mattered little now. He accepted that fact long before they arrived in that blasted bunker, knowing that it was just a fool's errand. Cursing under his breath, his mind was clouded with visions of everything he held dear and regretting not being able to say goodbye to them. The idea saddened him, but it was all too late now.

There was an amount of light seeping through his half-lidded eyes, enlightening him from what little he could see around the vicinity. He didn't know what it was that caused him to lie helpless in a dark corner of this ruins, all he knew was that there was pain—everywhere.

He lingered motionless and vulnerable in that corner, hoping that someone would help him soon and prevent that place from becoming his dismal grave. He waited and waited, eager to hear something else other than his own heart's slow beating.

And then, there was something.

It took him a few seconds before recognising the sound of footsteps, slowly becoming louder hence coming closer towards him. There was a small flicker of optimism that grew brighter inside his heart, as those footsteps emerged as a shady figure in front of him. He cocked his head upwards in order to get a better look at this person. Through his clouded eyesight, he saw someone familiar and it made him smile in relief.

The figure in front of him smiled in return, offering a hand to help his friend get up on his feet. Gullible as he was, he took his hand and forcefully collected what little he could gather into his legs.

As he came closer towards the figure, his features became clearer—and he realised that there was something odd about him. His smile became a twisted smirk with golden eyes glistening under the moonlight, the dreadful image made him cringe in terror. By then, he swore he could feel his heart beating loudly in his ears, as if counting the remaining seconds until his impending doom.

He tried to let go of his hand so he could get away, but the other man held it so tightly that he couldn't escape. From the corner of his eyes, he took a sudden glimpse at something shinning behind the other man's back, and examined it intently. To his horror, it was a bowie knife, peeking in malice and awaiting its turn to bite on his flesh.

Glancing towards the man in shock, it was too late before he could make sense of his current situation. He trusted him so much that he offered his life for this man, but now where did that take him? Regret. This angel of death, a comrade he had mistaken for an angel of salvation, plunged the knife into his chest and drained the life inside.

"Shh," the man whispered, forcing him to calm down and just accept his cruel fate.

He collapsed in the ground with the knife still in his chest, wondering if the physical pain was more excruciating than his friend's betrayal. To his dismay, the other man leaned forward and pushed the knife deeper into his body—slowly and almost intimately, making him cough blood in revulsion and pain. His gargling screams of agony soon faded into a silent prayer, regrettably accepting the bitterness of his final downfall.

As his vision welcomed the darkness once again, the man laughed cruelly on his right ear.

"It's over now," his haunting words echoed in his ears and that moment, he knew that they were to be his requiem. "You're finally saved."

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	2. Chapter One

**Author's Note: **I forgot to mention before that the characters in this story are humanised, as I always write them. I'm also sorry for the awfully slow start. It'll go on for about two more chapters, but please bear with me. I just like building the tension up until the conflict starts. Anyway, please enjoy reading.

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**Chapter One**

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My head was aching again, and the unwelcome throbbing forced me to sit on my bunker bed for a while. I grimaced as I held my head with the both of my hands, pushing the pain back to the hellhole where it came from. Closing my eyes, I felt the pain fade into a halt and I couldn't help but sigh in relief.

My name was Flippy, and this was how I spent most of my mornings: suffering from a horrible headache, and grunting to no one but to the empty bunker beds inside this dreary military hangar I call home. Despite the fact that I had been—in a sense—sick these past few days, you couldn't tell that I was suffering from it because I had a fairly sun-drenched skin, though the grey circles underneath my light green dagger sharp eyes—can give the impression away. Sleep was practically a luxury for me, considering that I was a soldier from the army. Because of that, I had a tall stature complimented by a muscular build, and a dirty blonde buzz cut hair. I actually liked keeping my hair this short, because if it grew longer—it turns into a shade of green under the daylight, which was unusual.

In general, I was an average military person, with a visage that can pass for a trustworthy face.

And what kind of sickness was I suffering from? Well, professionals call it 'Posttraumatic Stress Disorder.' As for me, I'd like to call it 'A Stressful Pain in the Ass.' It was a condition that can be resulted if the person was exposed to traumatic events, and my therapist gave me that diagnosis a few weeks ago. I didn't think of my condition to be that severe for it to be named though. I was just upset because the memory was still fresh inside my mind, and I'd like to believe that I was going to be alright soon.

I motioned towards my pillows and groped for a canister of pills underneath. Finding what I was looking for, I opened and shook the container—dropping a pill on my other palm. I stared at it for a moment, unsure if I needed another dosage of the medication.

Our resident therapist prescribed me these pills, hoping that it would help me clear my head. Ever since I came back, I was haunted by the horrors of war and every night, I saw the faces of the people I killed and the people I had left behind. Strangers and friends alike. They all condemn me to burn in guilt.

I was ashamed of it. Ashamed that I couldn't do—didn't do anything to save them. What was worse was that I was rewarded for my cowardice, being the only one who came back and was able to live his life once more.

I remember them though—their faces, their voices. It seemed only yesterday when they'd make terrible jokes to entertain themselves. Making fun of anything and anyone just to have a good laugh, because it might be their last.

Yeah...

I can hear them. Sadly, now, only in my memories.

Thinking about them led me into remembering the last time I saw their faces and the chaos that surrounded us, imprisoning and suffocating. And I remember how their mangled bodies awakened me, how their lifeless eyes stared towards my direction—as if blaming me for their deaths, and promising vengeance. I cringed at the thought.

Pain broke into the doors of my head again, screaming and pounding from the back of my skull. It left me no choice but to take the pill in order to stop me from my destructive behavior. So, without any hesitation, I downed the pill into my dry throat, closing my eyes in the process.

I closed the lid of the canister and threw it carelessly on my bed. I needed something more than the pills to throw my mind into an ease.

Unexpectedly, my digital military watch beeped, reminding me of my appointment with the resident therapist. I snorted, not liking the idea, but it was routine so I had to go. With that, I set the alarm off and headed for his office.

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I stood in front of the office's mahogany door and inhaled heavily, before turning its knob and taking a peek inside. There, I saw my therapist standing in front of his window—presumably admiring the weather outside. I knocked on the door in order to get his attention, since it appeared that the sound of me—opening the door—wasn't enough.

He turned to me, confused as to why I was here. It seemed to me that he wasn't keeping track of his appointment schedules. But then, he greeted and let me into his office, offering the seat next to his wooden office table. I obliged and then waited for the session to start. It usually began when he took a seat and asked me about how my day went, but he appeared to be busy looking for my file in his haphazard collection of paperwork.

I found myself lost at the clutter of his office. It was baffling how he could get around this office without frustrating himself. Surely, it was imperative for him to organize his stuff, but he wasn't doing that. It made me sarcastically tell myself that I was in good hands. If can't do so much of being organized, how sure was I that he could do differently with his job?

"So, Flippy," he said as he was browsing through my file and taking a seat on his leather executive chair. "How was your day?"

"Fine, I guess. Nothing much happened." I replied, blandly.

"Yeah?" he took his glasses from its case and then focused on me. "Did you have any nightmares, anything I should know about?"

"No, nothing. If there was, I can't remember. I just had a headache this morning, the usual."

He sighed deeply and leaned his back on his chair, as if he knew something but didn't want me to know. I probably didn't want to know it either. After spending a few seconds into thinking, his expression changed, like one person would have when he had a eureka moment. I raised an eyebrow at him, perplexed.

"You've been granted shore leave, haven't you?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Have you considered using that time to take a break? From what you've told me, you haven't been doing anything else besides your duty as a soldier."

It was true, and I knew where he was getting at. "Yes, but, I'm not entirely sure where to go. I'm not really fond of travelling."

"Surely, you can go somewhere. How 'bout your hometown?" he asked, maintaining eye contact.

I sneered at him. I had one, but it didn't mean that I still considered that place as my home. I started to think that I made a mistake coming here. I wasn't sure how much this man could help me, but here I was—desperately waiting for his ground-breaking advice.

"I have," I said almost quietly, unsure if I just told a lie or the truth.

He looked at me with a hint of skepticism, and was about to say something but held it back instead. Maybe he was getting frustrated at me too, since I wasn't giving too much away. The therapist took his pen and wrote something in my file. I ignored him and chose to took down on his dusty carpet instead. Whatever he was writing, I didn't want to know.

"Well, Flippy. Maybe it's best for you to go back to your hometown." he said, putting his pen down and then crossing his legs before continuing. "The different environment might help you have a different perspective about yourself."

That was it? That was his insightful conclusion? For all he knew, my hometown could be a dangerous hive of criminals. That wasn't true, fortunately—but still. Despite my rather negative reaction, I kept my bashful thoughts to myself. I didn't want him writing another paragraph on my file and diagnosing me with another atrocious mental disease.

So, I nodded hesitantly and thanked him for the advice. He smiled gleefully in return. I think I gave the poor fool the impression of actually helping me with my predicament. In silence, I stood up and left the room.

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Soon enough, I was clearing my closet and packing my stuff up for the shore leave that had been granted to me. It had been eight years since I left, and I was pretty sure that my hometown was now filled with strangers. I tried to remember the people I had left behind, anyone who could be anticipating my return. Unfortunately, I couldn't, and I had the impression that I would come off as a tourist in my own hometown.

After folding my last pair of clothes, I zipped my bag up and carried it by its strap on my shoulder. I lingered for a while and took a glimpse at my neatly made bed, of where I saw my green beret lying peacefully on. I argued to myself if I should bring it with me or not, having such an attachment to the uniform. But I brushed the idea off and instead of taking it with me, I decided to let it rest on my pillow. Then there was this orange colored canister that held my medication—poking its head underneath my pillow. I took it and I was disgusted by the idea that I needed it.

As I headed towards the door, the wall mirror beside me caught my attention—because there was this foreign image it reflected that made me mentally laugh in amusement.

The person before me shared the same physical features with me, only that he was wearing layers of clothes composed of a forest green button-up, a brown sweater vest, and a black leather jacket. My stare trailed off towards the bottom half of his body, which was clothed with dark denim pants, and then towards his feet which were protected by his muddy black combat boots.

It had been a while since I saw myself wearing casual clothes.

_ Alright, Flippy. You're off to a fresh start._

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	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

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During the last bus ride I would have to endure, I was sitting at the far left corner next to the window. From there, I watched the world outside gradually change into a completely different one. From the eclectic colors of the city into the pastel of my hometown's greenery, and there was this inexplicable anticipation inside me that lifted my spirits up. Maybe this decision wasn't bad after all. The only thing that annoyed me with that idea was that I had to thank my therapist for that.

The bus wasn't crowded, given the fact that only a few people live in this side of the country. A little peace and quiet could do me good. Only that, I'd probably stress myself on thinking about how to kill time every day. But, that was the least of my worries right now. It wasn't long before the enormous sign emerged from a distance.

'Welcome to Happy Tree Town,' it said.

Such a cheerful name for a town that was nearly empty. I smiled to myself with that thought. I wondered if the town changed since the last time I was here. I could even get lost on my way and be the casual idiot who asks strangers for directions to my own house.

The vehicle came to a halt and that signaled me to collect my bag and stand from my seat. The people in front of me had already lined up for the automated door, and I saw myself at the end of the line—patiently waiting for my turn to exit the bus.

Then came my turn, and there emerged a picturesque view of the town. I scanned my surroundings in awe. The sky was clear in a gradient of blue, and underneath it were long lines of business establishments and concrete pavements. The muted conversations of people blended with the chirping of some wandering birds. It was a lively small town, filled with blissful people who went on about their lives and routines. As I looked around, I noticed the small smile plastered on my face and I wondered for how long had I been smiling.

Alright, this was definitely different than what I had remembered it to be. Now, I was sure that I would get lost.

The bus behind me screeched away from the bus stop and I was left there standing like a lost bear who just stepped into civilization—with the desire of becoming a domesticated animal. Not sure how was that going to happen, but that was what I was attempting to do. And so far, I was doing an awful job at it.

Before anything else, I still had to find where I used to live.

I made my way to the sidewalk for starters, and tried to familiarize myself with my surroundings. Darting fast glances to anything that might spark memory. How come nothing seemed familiar? Surely, I should be able to recognize something. I felt distant gazes on me, probably baffled to see a new face in town. Once, I caught someone looking straight at me. I smiled at her, causing her to smile sheepishly before returning her attention to her milkshake and her friend.

I hastily walked past by the café and entered the convenience store next to it. Heading straight for the counter, I fished in my pocket in search for my wallet and took a few dollars to pay for what I would buy.

"A pack of smokes please," I requested while placing the money on the counter.

The store clerk took a single glance at me before aiming for what I had requested behind him. I tapped my fingers on the counter's smooth surface in anticipation. He soon handed the item over and took my money in return.

"New in town?" he asked me with a sign of little interest about my identity, as he pressed some buttons to open the cash register. Maybe it was his routine to ask such a predictable question to new faces.

I smiled and shrugged as he handed me my change and receipt. "No, actually. I, uh, used to live here." _Kind of._

"Hm, strange." he retorted as he crossed his arms in doubt. "Can't say I have seen you around since I worked here."

"You've been working here for a long time then?" My eyes twitched, annoyed at him for thinking that I was lying. What would I gain from that? _Snotty sonofabitch._

He looked away from me for a brief moment, in search for an answer. "No, not really."

I felt the need to chuckle in triumph from our juvenile argument. "Well, that explains it."

He could only glare at me, not being able to think of any witty comebacks to defeat my somewhat insulting remark. I winked at him and added, "Expect to see me around more often then."

And with that, I headed straight for the glass door.

Pushing the door with my hand and then stopping it from closing by leaning on it, I opened the pack of cigarettes to bring a stick to my lips. After that, I took a step forward and searched for my lighter with a hopeful thought that as soon as I light this cigarette—nothing could go wrong.

But then again, I was no oracle.

I smiled victoriously when my hand finally found the nifty lighter which was hiding in my travel bag's outside pocket. Igniting its fuel, I brought it closer to the cigarette's tip, ready to savor the sweet poison into my lungs.

"Move, move, move!" A high-pitched voice exclaimed from afar, stealing my attention. "Move away! Please!"

An image of a young lady who seemed to be distraught in panic was clumsily skating towards me—in a dangerous pace. I, on the other hand, was stunned for a moment that it made me drop my cigarette and lighter on the pavement. When she was about to hit me, she covered her face with her arms and shrieked loudly in fear.

Instinctively, I caught her by the hips and swirled her around in order to lose the force she gathered while skating down the slope. I held her steady on the ground, helping her stand on her skates, and waited for her to calm down.

It took her a few seconds before realizing that she was safe and unharmed, and when she did—she slowly relaxed her arms, revealing the immaculate beauty underneath. The world stood still and the loud gasps from a few bystanders became muted. I saw myself lost and captivated by the young lady before me, and I had to ask myself if she was real.

Smooth alabaster skin that glowed under the radiant sunshine. Long strawberry red hair, spiking and curling in random directions, like a rose blooming during springtime. Her crimson eyes glistening with tears peeked through her long lashes, wide in bewilderment, and beautifully framed by her small heart-shaped face. And her lips, cherry colored and pursed underneath her god chiseled nose.

I just caught an angel.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" she apologized amidst her stuttering. "I was trying to learn how to skate and I-I accidentally slipped off the pole I was holding onto and the next thing I know, I was rolling down the slope."

Still dazed by her, my mind failed from thinking of the right words to say.

"I d-didn't... I didn't mean to hit you," she added with the same amount of stuttering, feeling the need to vouch for her innocence because I wasn't responding. "Are you OK? Did I... hurt... you?"

She trailed off on her sentence, as she stared at me as if she recognized who I was.

"F-Flippy?"

_What?_

Without any warning, the girl wrapped her arms around me, embracing me tightly.

My heart skipped a beat.

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	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

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My mind was racing.

I surveyed the bewildering scene in silence, arguing with myself if I heard her correctly. Did she really say my name? If she did, how could I not remember her? Because with a face like hers, I definitely would remember her. I close my mouth, which had unconsciously been hanging open. As embarrassing as it was, I asked, "You know me?"

And, of course, as soon as I said that—her face clouded as she broke off the embrace. She glanced away, trying to repress any visible signs of her dismay. Then she peeked at me with those big shy eyes, "You don't remember me?"

Obviously not, but I tried so hard to. I didn't want to further hurt her as much as I already did. However, my memories failed and I was forced to tell the truth.

"No, I'm sorry."

She seemed at loss for words. Breaking someone's heart wasn't in my list of tasks today, and I was ashamed of what I just did. Maybe she already thought of me as a gloating asshole who thought so high of himself for forgetting someone like her. She breathed out, mulling over my words.

"It's me, Flaky." She declared quietly, avoiding eye contact and biting on her lower lip.

_Flaky? _My mind threw me in a whirlwind of images, depicting a short freckled face redhead who used to be my friend when we were young. She wore those tattered over-sized shirts that she inherited from her father, and she often used to cry over her bruises from a bad case of clumsiness.

_Yeah, I remember her._

A chuckle escaped my lips when I compared my mental image of the girl I used to know with the girl before me. She heard it and sulked more.

I apologized, "I remember you. I just—" I suppressed another chuckle. "—I just didn't recognize you, that's all."

"R-Really?"

I nodded and it made her smile in relief. Then there was this awkward silence that came between us, and I realized that I was still holding her hips. She noticed it as well and said, "Umm... let me just change to my shoes."

"Ok. Where are they?" I asked, bending down to get my lighter from the ground.

"It's over there," she pointed towards the park's direction and I scowled at how far it was.

The park was at least a street away, and I wondered if I had to carry her, since letting her skate our way through was a bad idea. To my surprise, she broke free of my grasp started skating away. I raised an eyebrow and shook my head.

"You sure you wanna do that? You might fall again," I exclaimed.

"I'll be fine!"

"I sincerely doubt that,"

Just a few inches later, one of Flaky's leg went ahead of her and it caused her to lose balance. I took hurried steps, just in time to catch her by the shoulders. Stunned, she looked up at me and went scarlet with embarrassment.

I returned her look with a smug one, "Didn't I tell you?"

"OK, m-maybe I need some help after all." She admitted.

I helped her up, clutching securely on her shoulders, and making sure she wasn't going to fall again. As I did that, she titled her body to the side and gently took a hold of my arm. Glancing at her, I gave her a reassuring smile of which she returned with a timid one. We began walking our way onwards to the park, as I was basically pulling her forward and letting her skates do the work.

The establishments soon faded and replaced by a number of lined up trees so tall and healthy—that they managed to cover the sky with their leaves and branches. The sunlight pierced through every opening the leaves granted, creating rays of light that shone in contrast with the shadows. There were a few pedestrians who were walking to the opposite direction, busy and occupied with their own agendas. As we walked further, I saw two uniformed men drinking coffee by the sidewalk. One of them gave us a single look and then focused at me, glaring and following my movement with his eyes. I stared back at him with a confused look in my face, then removed my gaze when we walked past them. _Mistrustful of new faces, no doubt._

"So, how have you been?" I asked with an awkward tone, feeling the need to break the silence.

Flaky turned her face to me, "Nothing much, I guess." And then trailing off into silence. She had this distant look in her eyes, as if remembering something unpleasant.

"Well, I can tell you how've you been." I paused for a moment and turned my attention to the road. "You became beautiful."

The red haired girl gasped in surprise before replying in a soft-spoken and hesitant tone. "You're telling me that I wasn't beautiful before?"

"I thought you'd be dating girls as beautiful as you are by now," I replied with a shrug. "Thinking how much of a tomboy you were back then."

"You're painfully honest," her voice had a hint of a mild laughter.

"That was a compliment, you can thank me some time."

The laughter she was trying to hold back escaped as she slapped my shoulder. I laughed as well and mouthed a "You're welcome."

Soon after, the park emerged before us and she took the lead by bringing me to the tennis court. Flaky skated along when we neared one of the benches that stood around the place. I watched her sit down and start to untie the laces of her roller skates. When she removed them and changed to her brown leather boots, I realized how small she really was. Those skates must had at least added three inches to her height. I smiled. When she was done, she tied the roller skates' laces securely around one of her knapsack's straps, then swung her bag gracefully on her shoulders to her back before standing up.

"So, when did you get back?" she asked.

"A few minutes ago," I replied. "Just before I literally bumped into you."

"I'm sorry about that again," she apologized, clutching her knapsack.

I smiled and messed up her hair with my hand, like I always did when we were younger. I usually did that to make fun of her because she had dandruff. Flaky winced when I did that, making me remember the timid ten year old girl that used to be so boyish and different. She did wince like that. I guess, some things just never change.

After that, we looked at each other, searching for words. Until her expression changed and broke the silence, "You've been gone for so long. I thought you'd never come back."

_I thought so too._

"Are you... going to stay for good?"

"No,"

Then there it was. That heart quenching frown again. "But I'm going to stay for a long while," I added.

I looked around, realizing that I still had no idea about my way around town. "Can you—" my eyes flicked glance at her. "—Accompany me to my house?"

Flaky was stunned for some reason, and then replied a simple, "OK."

I walked to the other direction and when Flaky noticed it, she called my name out—making me stop dead in my tracks.

"Where are you going?" her eyes were wide in confusion.

"My house?"

"It's this way," she said, pointing to the other direction with her head.

"Of course. Yeah," I laughed nervously and scratched the back of my head. "Tell you what, why don't you lead the way?"

Flaky stiffened for a moment, blinking at me, and then she put her hands on her hips. "You don't remember the way, do you?"

I opened my mouth and darted random glances at my surroundings, searching for the right words to say, "Uh—" and then finally replying an uneasy, "—No."

Exhaling audibly, the girl took my hand and instructed me to follow her. We started walking, and I watched her intently—stealing my attention away from my surroundings again. I was mindlessly moving my legs because I was distracted by her exposed bare shoulder. I smiled, thinking that she hadn't lost her attachment to over-sized clothes, wearing that large gray sweater that hung down to her thighs. Her movement was causing it to fall even further down to her arm, and I was compelled to pull it back up to her shoulder. _I don't want other people seeing more of that._

What I did prompted her to do the same, blushing slightly. "Sorry,"

I shrugged.

"By the way," her voice was almost lost beneath the clamor of people we just walked past by, "You're not planning to stay in your house, are you?"

"Can't think of anywhere else to stay," my expression went blank, not liking the idea of staying there because of my emotional baggage from that place. But still, I knew I had no choice.

"OK," She lowered her head, deep in thought.

"Why? What's wrong?" my words were hurried.

Her crimson eyes met my emerald ones, and they had this apologetic look in them. "You'll see."

It took us a long while before we arrived, passing through at least six more streets from the park where we came from. The tall facade of trees and bushes covered what lay before us, and Flaky hurried on ahead of me, kicking a few stray twigs and plants away from our path. I followed, a few steps behind with a growing anxiousness inside of me.

She stopped walking and turned to me, "Here we are."

And as I took a glimpse of the view behind her, I lowered my eyebrows as my jaw dropped in disbelief.

_ What the fuck happened?_

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